


Here's My Heart

by Angel_Negra



Category: Power Rangers Time Force
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-04
Updated: 2011-02-04
Packaged: 2017-10-15 09:57:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/159640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Angel_Negra/pseuds/Angel_Negra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's a photograph book lying on Wes' desk.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Here's My Heart

**Author's Note:**

> Title comes from the lyrics to Rihanna's 'Photographs' song. Written for the PRSW22 prompt 'photograph'.

The photograph book is small and old. The vinyl black covering is cracked and worn and the binding is peaking out of it. Whatever gold coloured writing was on the cover has long since faded, even the imprint is worn smooth. Inside the book, the plastic pages fare a bit better.

The first picture sitting in the clear pouch is faded, the edges worn from repeated removals. There's a drink stain on the corner, almost obscuring the woman in the photo. She's sitting outside on a rock, or possibly a bench, bleached grey. Her hair is streaming in a way that suggests a lot of wind that day, but her smile is bright and warm.

The next photograph isn't so much an actual photograph but a newspaper clipping of one. It shows two young teenage boys standing proudly by a large trophy. The clipping is yellowed and faded. Whatever tag line there was to explain the picture, it wasn't cut out along with said photograph. The clipping itself isn't as worn as the previous picture, but it carries a tear down the centre that's been repaired with yellowing tape. There are smudges on the plastic covering.

The next few pages are filled with polaroids. They're burnt and blistered and nearly impossible to make out. There's a bit of green in one. It could be a fake fur, or possibly hair. In another, there's a mix of yellow, red and orange coloured arms. The last is nothing but a black and blistered mess. The plastic pouches for these have been carefully taped shut, as if to try and prevent further damage to the pictures.

There's one final picture in the book. It's far newer than the others and the difference in quality is striking. It's a candid shot, the man in the photo is sitting beside a birdcage, filling the feeder. Both birds were flapping at the time the photo was taken, one with its wings outstretched, the other's wings a blur. The man himself is relaxed, smiling softly while he concentrates.

The photograph book closes with the crackle of a book who's binding is falling apart. It makes a soft thump as it's placed back on Wes' desk and the bit of loose threading in its spine blows gently in the wind of Eric closing the door behind him.

End


End file.
